It's always the same bittersweet feeling when Logan's grandparents take him for the weekend. At first, I'm so excited to have some extra time to catch up on things around the house, grade papers, do my school work, work out, etc. (not that all of those things get done by any means because I usually end up sleeping for most of the weekend). But as soon as Granddad pulls out of the driveway, an emptiness hits me. I go back inside and wonder what to do with myself (see, none of the above have come into my mind again). At least this time, I have decided to blog. That's productive, right? The house is quiet and there isn't the guilty feeling of being on the computer or doing something other than being on the floor with Logan working on his exercises. When we're home I feel like we always need to be working with him on something to help him develop. I feel guilty when we put him in the walker or jumperoo. It's like we're wasting valuable time and we won't be able to get those minutes back or something.
I guess after his first surgery when he was a baby, I feel like I "babied" him even more than the normal mom. I held him alot and all that time I was home on maternity leave, I remember days and days of just holding him, feeding him, changing him, and watching reruns on Bravo. I still have some guilt about this. Can you tell? One, we probaby should have been watching Sprout or some Baby Einstein movie. Two, I should have put him down more and let him explore. I waited so long to even put him in the walker or jumper. I guess it's hard to remember now, but I must have thought he wasn't ready for those things. He still had bad reflux in the beginning...exorcist style. And he didn't reach for any toys on his own. His arms were pretty much glued to his sides and his fists in balls for the first 7 months of his life. We kind of joked about it at first...he was just tense like his Grumps. But, after a while it started to worry me. We went to story time and swim lessons over the summer. We also joined a play group (which we've since been kicked out of for lack of participation : ) I could tell Logan was different from the other babies. The biggest difference was in his lack of physical movement. At swim lessons, he wouldn't swim out after a toy in the water. At the playgroup, he still needed me to hold him up in the sitting position. I remember trying to compensate and cover up for the things he wasn't doing. You know, instead of putting him down on the floor, I'd just hold him and say he was tired or something. At swim lessons, the water was too cold. I guess it was some denial or fear or the dreaded comparing done by all moms! You can't escape that.
In August, Sally, our babysitter, had an old friend come visit at her house. This woman works in the medical field (I'm not sure her exact role). I think she trains pediatrians about the latest research. Something like that. Anyways, when I went to pick up Logan one day, Sally told me she wanted to tell me something, but wasn't exactly sure how. Finally, she said that when her friend arrived, she took one look at Logan and asked if he had been to see a developmental pediatrician yet. Sally said no, I don't think so. Why? The woman began to point out little things about him that seemed a bit off to her...his thick neck fold behind his head, the protruding bones around his skull, and the balled up fists. That's all I can remember now. The details weren't important anymore. I was scared. It was just like a pit in my stomach, someone finally confirming what I thought all along, something was different about this sweet boy. My mom asked me a couple of months ago if I knew something was wrong from the beginning. I told her yes. I can't really explain it. Maybe a mother just knows. I can't believe I'm writing this, but I guess it's part of the therapy. When Logan came out and I first saw him, I knew something was not right. At first I was just thrilled that he didn't have Down Syndrome. There were little indicators throughout my pregnancy that had us scared. We actually met with a genetic counselor around 6 months because we had some gray areas on some test that showed in the future we could pass along Fragil X Syndrome. From the ultrasounds, we also knew our little baby had a little spot on his heart and fluid in his kidneys. It was just the collection of these little things that everyone said was "probably nothing" that had us scared already. Yet, when he came there was some relief that he was not Downs. I know I'm supposed to say that my baby was the cutest thing that I had ever laid eyes on, but it was sort of wierd. He looked like a little old man. His chin was very prominent and he had so much extra skin ( I know this can be normal for babies, but it was alot). I'm sure I sound like the worst mother saying this, but I promised myself I'd be truthful here. And then, there were his turned up ears. Like I said before, we tried to joke that it was just because he didn't have enough room in my belly and they were probably squished. I don't know who really believed this and who didn't. Then, as the nurse was giving him his first bath, she said, " Has anyone noted that his penis and scrotum are fused together?" I know it sounds way worse than it looked. In fact, he's already had his "boys" fixed and he's good as new down there : ) But for a new mother, it just seemed like everything was stacking up against this little boy. I was positive that I was going to cry when I delivered him. But I didn't. I didn't cry after he was handed to me either. Maybe this is the same with other moms too? (I hope) Shocked would be a good word for it..when the past 10 months finally deliver what you've been waiting for all this time. One minute you're just another pregnant woman, the next you're a mother. It kind of makes me sad when I think about all of this. While we were in the hospital, a geneticist came to look over Logan. She did a few tests, one of which tests for like the 200 most common genetic syndromes. That came back normal. Yeah, Mowat-Wilson wasn't on that list of 200. This woman also wrote up an 8 page summary of her evaluation of Logan. Page after page went on about all of his little defects...fused penis, turned up ears, small head, odd shaped head, VSD (small hole in his heart). It was so devastating to see this list of imperfections of my newborn baby. Wasn't he just supposed to come out perfect and we could take him home? Well, we did take him home, and things were fine for about a week. He didn't nurse well so I was in the never ending cycle of trying to feed, giving up and pumping, feeding again, sleeping for an hour, and doing it all again. Exhausting. They sure don't tell you all about this stuff when you're pregnant! Fast forward, and we returned to the hospital at day 10 because Logan would not eat or keep anything in his stomach. That's when we were given the option to proceed with exploratory surgery or else. I think I wrote all about that fun adventure already.
Wow, I really got off track somewhere a few paragraphs ago. How did this start? Oh yeah, I was sad that Logan is gone and the house is empty. He's just a part of me now. Nothing I ever do is done without thinking of him first. How will he be affected? I know everyone said it to me while I was pregnant, but motherhood changes you forever. That is a fact.
P.S. Don't get me wrong...I am now like every other mom and think my baby is the cutest one in the whole wide world!!!
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